


Stress Fracture

by Arsenic



Series: Dickens-verse [21]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, dickens-verse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asking for help has never gotten Vin anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Fracture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chibifukurou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibifukurou/gifts).



> Thanks to my beta ihearttwojacks. 
> 
> Using the "headaches/migraines" square on my hc_bingo. 
> 
> Also, this is not how medical science works. At all. File under "b/c Dickens."

Vin's grandfather had never been a warm person. He'd grown up dirt poor in Texas, at some point pulled enough together to rent some ranching land he'd eventually managed to buy off the owner, and gotten married to a woman who promptly died bearing his one and only child: a daughter. To make things worse, said daughter had gotten knocked up by her high school boyfriend, who then joined the army and took off without so much as a by-your-leave.

Vin was four when his mom died of cancer, which his grandfather seemed to take as a just ending for her. Unfortunately, it left him with Vin. He faced the problem stoically, by throwing the most undesirable parts of the ranch work into Vin's hands, and taking a belt to Vin whenever his efforts weren't up to the old man's standards.

When he was seven, Vin was corralling one of the bulls, shaky from a beating and from a few days without dinner as punishment for…breathing, he supposed. He lost his concentration for a minute or so, something spooked the bulls, and Vin took a glancing blow to the side of his head from one of them.

The doctors said it was a miracle he survived. Vin had long ago learned that disagreeing with adults was a good way to end up with a welted backside, or worse, so he kept his opinion to himself.

*

The headaches started after that. Mostly they came on when he was scared or tired. They pressed in on him, as though someone had wrapped a steel cord around his eyes and temples and the back of his head, and pulled until his skull was just about to crack. They pulsed under the dome of his head and made it hard to think.

Vin never told anyone. It wouldn't have done him any good if he had.

*

Vin's grandfather died three years later. Vin stayed in the house until the food ran out. He wasn't sure where to go. He knew he wouldn't be allowed to keep living there alone, even if he'd wanted to. But the sheriff and pretty much everyone in town was aware of how the old man had dealt with Vin, and most had quietly sanctioned it. There was no place of safety for him there.

Having made that decision, he took all the cash he could find, went to the local grocery and picked out foods that would travel well and not weigh him down. Then he walked the three days it took to get to the next town over's bus depot. When nobody was looking, he smuggled his way into the baggage compartment and rode the bus until there wasn't enough baggage to cover his presence. 

He'd barely had time to figure out where he was—Philadelphia—only that it was cold and had more people than he'd known existed, before the traffickers picked him out of the crowd, and lured him into their hold with promises of a warm bed and some food. Vin would like to think he'd have been more savvy if his head hadn't hurt so bad. But he'd been out of anything to eat for two days and was operating at a pretty consistent level of silent terror. He could hardly see for the pain in his head.

Then again, he sometimes thought if he hadn't taken them up on their—false—offer, he'd never have gotten himself Ezra, Chris and Mary, let alone Buck, Sara and eventually Parker. It was more than he'd ever gotten from his grandfather's beatings, more than he'd ever believed he'd have.

*

Vin had trusted Chris from the moment the cop had pulled him out from the crawlspace he'd been sure he was going to die in. Of course, trusting the man not to hurt him and to take him to a place that was safer than hell weren't the same as trusting him to make sure Vin was all right going forward. Chris hadn't owed him that, Vin hadn't asked for it, and certainly hadn't expected it.

For the first few nights out of the hospital—the first time Ezra and he had been separated since being dug out—he reverted back to behavior learned from his grandfather. Vin was going to get beaten in that house one way or another, but he avoided it more when he was quiet and unnoticeable. Vin helped with the chores and answered when spoken to and otherwise kept himself out of sight.

He wasn't sure what he was hoping for. Maybe that they would keep him if he was no bother. Maybe that they'd be convinced to find him a place to live where nobody would hit or starve him. Either way, it was instinct and not something he found himself able to go against.

What he _wasn't_ expecting, certainly not hoping for, was that it would only make them more attentive. Unsure of how to handle that reaction, how to conform himself to behavior he didn’t understand, Vin gave away secrets he didn't even know he was keeping. That was how they found out about the headaches.

*

He wasn't getting them as often in Chris and Mary's house. There was regular food, and he didn't fear violence, and yes, he was worried about what would happen to him, but he was decently certain Chris wouldn't allow it to be terrible. Then Chris and Mary started acting…off. Vin couldn't explain it, not with words, but something was different, almost like they were being _more_ careful of him.

He was pretty sure they just didn't know how to tell him it was time to go, but the shift in behaviors, the concern about what was next, and the still-healing state of his body meant the headaches came back fiercely. He did what he'd always done; he tightened his jaw and pretended he was fine.

The approach had never failed him before, but this time, Mary looked over at him while they were eating dinner and asked, "Are you feeling all right, Vin? You look pale."

Vin wasn't surprised that her comment got Chris into the act, suddenly paying close attention. Unsure of what to do, he murmured, "Just a headache."

People got headaches all the time. It wasn't something that made him broken or wrong, not if it only happened every once in a while. And he'd find a way to not let them see, he would. Then Mary, her mouth turning down a little, asked, "Why didn't you say something?"

She was up from her seat and in the kitchen before Vin could so much as process the words. After a moment she returned with a couple of white pills. "Try that. If it doesn't help, we can always try something else."

Intellectually, Vin understood that they were simple, over-the-counter pain pills. It was just that he'd never been given painkillers outside of his time in the hospital. He swallowed the two pills and murmured, "Thank you."

"They're in the third cabinet to the left of the sink, if you need them," Chris said, and there was something in his voice Vin couldn't identify, but it wasn't threatening.

The medicine kicked in about twenty minutes later, and while it didn't make the headache disappear, it was bearable, which was more than he'd ever had in the past.

*

Vin should have known using the pills would only end in trouble. His theory had been that the pain was manageable enough on them that he could cover what was left and Mary and Chris would never find out. Only, Chris noticed how many pills were missing, and sat Vin down to talk about it.

Vin did his best to stay calm. He told Chris, "I'll replace 'em. Mostly I worked the ranch, but I could be a grocery bagger or something. I can—"

Chris put a hand out. "Stop, stop. I don't care that you're using the pills. I care that you evidently _need_ to use them often enough that I noticed a difference in the amount over a period of two weeks."

Vin wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he didn't. Chris said, "Hey, hey. Don't do that."

Vin didn't know what he was doing. Chris took a breath. "Nobody's upset with you. I just need to know if this is something that started when you were taken, or if it's been going on longer than that."

Vin tried to find the right answer, but he couldn't anticipate Chris's responses. Eventually he shrugged, "Hit my head real good as a kid."

There was a long silence. Then Chris said, "Okay, kid," and gently pulled him into a hug. Vin still wasn't used to touch that didn't hurt, thought it was maybe stupid to allow himself to get used to it, but he couldn't find it in himself to pull away.

*

The next day, Mary took time off work to get him to a doctor who was evidently an old friend. She called him Nate, which he insisted Vin call him as well, and thanked him for seeing them so quickly. Nate nodded and looked at Vin. "Mary tells me you've been having regular headaches for years. Can you describe the type of pain?"

Haltingly, Vin did the best he could. Nate jotted a few things on his notepad, then said, "And there was something about you getting hit on the head?"

Vin looked to the side. "Bull kicked me. Didn't catch me full on, but I wasn't fast enough, didn't get out of the way."

Mary blinked and Nate had gone still. She asked, "You were _kicked in the head_ by a _bull_?"

Vin figured she wasn't asking because she hadn't understood. "I lived and worked on a ranch, ma'am."

Into the silence that followed, Nate quietly said, "We're gonna need some tests."

*

Vin freaked out when they put him in the CAT machine. He managed for about five seconds before he bit his lip and began shaking and keening quietly in panic. They pulled him out, and Mary rubbed his back and told him things were okay and was generally very kind until he had calmed a bit. Then they gave him a sedative and put him back in. That was fine, he didn't even notice that time.

He also didn't remember getting back to Chris and Mary's, but he woke up in the bed they'd let him sleep in, the _room_ they were loaning him for the time being. He came into the main area, where Mary was on the phone and typing all at once. She smiled at him and he offered a shy smile back. 

She gestured him over, so he came and sat down next to her. He wasn't sure how, but somehow he ended up lying on the couch, his head on her lap. He fell back asleep to her even, firm tones.

*

At the follow-up appointment, Nate explained, "There's some scarring in the skull area from the injury you told us about. It's making what seem to be regular tension headaches a whole lot worse."

Chris put a hand on Vin's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Anything we can do?"

"We can try some prescription headache medications, see if any of them do the trick. It might take some trial and error."

Vin, who wasn't sure who had paid all his hospital bills up until now, but was pretty certain Chris and Mary were fronting these medical expenses, said, "The Tylenol works."

Nate, unimpressed, asked, "Are they giving you twenty?"

"Nate, can we have a minute?"

"Take five," he said, and left the room. 

Chris hopped up to sit on the exam table next to Vin. Vin said, "Really, Chris. I…it's real nice that you let me have that stuff."

Chris looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. "Tylenol?"

Vin shrugged and nodded. Chris sighed. "Oh kid. I wish I'd been around to ki—arrest whoever had you before Mary and me."

Vin shook his head at that. What Chris had done, was doing, was more than enough. "I don't need fancy pills."

"Tell me why you think that."

Vin blinked. "I did okay even before, without the Tylenol."

"When you were in semi-blinding pain about half the time?" Chris asked. "Your skull had a hairline fracture in it. Was that okay, too, when it happened?"

Chris's words sounded angry, but his tone didn't. Vin bit his lip. "I don't understand this."

"This?"

"You did what you was supposed to do," he said. "You saved Ez and me's lives, because you're a police man. But—"

"Sh, okay. I get it. Mary and I should have been more clear. The social workers warned us that you’d need a lot of verbal support but Mary's kind of the expert at that stuff, and she didn't realize this needed to be spelled out, so I didn't. Here's the deal, Vin: Mary and I are keeping you, unless there's somewhere else you'd rather go. 

"If you want us to find you a family somewhere warm and where there's horses and cattle, well, I don't know if I really would do that at this point, but I'd move to a place like that for you. If it really is us you don't want—"

"I—I want." Vin kind of felt like his world was being turned inside out, all the seams showing, badly sewn by some drunken seamstress. Nothing made sense. "I want you and Mary. But—"

"No buts. Policemen rarely get turned down for adoption, it's just taking a little longer for the initial papers because you're still technically a ward of the state of Texas. We didn't want to tell you until things were in the works, but we should have, clearly. I'm sorry."

Vin shook his head again. "I still don't need the pills."

"I suppose that depends on your definition of 'need.' I'm the parent, though, and I say we're getting them, so that's final. My kid's not going to be in pain if I can stop it, Vin, not ever."

Vin whispered, "Why?"

"Why's my kid not going to be in pain, or why am I doing this?"

"That. Why're you doing this?"

Chris thought for a moment, then asked, "Why do you want to stay with us?"

There were too many reasons, really. In the end he settled on, "You feel safe and Mary's hugs are nice."

Chris smiled. "You make us feel happy. Is that not enough?"

Vin wasn't a hundred percent sure it was, but it was so, so much more than he'd ever had before. He wasn't going to throw it aside just because it might not last. He leaned in a little bit, and Chris caught on, first tousling his hair gently, then pulling him in to be held.


End file.
